Coffee Pot
by CRAZEDbySUGAR
Summary: Spender knew the silent rule. Never date a co-worker. Everyone knew it was for the best, especially if it made the teacher's lounge less awkward. Drabble.
1. The Slip

Spender knew the silent rule. Never date a co-worker. Everyone knew it was for the best, especially if it made the teacher's lounge less awkward. Ms. Baxter could relax and sip her tea in peace. Even Mr. Starchman was calm as he graded English papers with his box of stars near by, ready to be given to students if their paper proved to be extraordinary. Then there was Mr. Garcia, fighting off sleep as he ate. The coffee rations of the day were already handed out. Caffeine couldn't save him now.

The teachers knew of his poor sleeping habits. Though, none of them had a clue what he did outside of school. The group kept to themselves, it had always been that way. No one pried, except, of course, Mr. Spender. Pushing his sunglasses closer to his face, he stared at his coffee rations. One mug of caffeinated black, bitter coffee. Cream and sugar weren't provided, not since the last budget cuts. The only good thing about the liquid was it was warm and free. He swished and swirled the coffee in his Dog Lover mug and looked to his half awake co-worker.

Spender's lips thinned as he walked over the Mr. Garcia. _Just offer him the coffee. You already had two cups today._ He paused in front of the science teacher. "Here, have some coffee." Spender said, sliding the mug in front of him. "You look like you need it more than I do."

Mr. Garcia looked up from his food with weary eyes. The bags under his eyes seemed bruised and worse than they appeared to be from across the Lounge. He grasped the mug with shaky hands and muttered, "Thanks. I love you." before taking a swing of the coffee.

Spender smiled, "Love you too." He rebutted before turning to return to his post at the counter where his waiting snack resided. His cheery expression turned to that of dread as he felt the weight of the words they exchanged hang over him. Ms. Baxter arched an eyebrow as she continued to sip her tea. She had a question on her lips, but chose against speaking.

Spender swallowed, adjusted his tie and gave the math teacher a short nod before quickly walking back to the counter. His mind was churning a mile a second. Without thinking, he left the Teacher's Lounge without touching his food. Maybe spectral work would clear his head.


	2. Call Backs

Mr. Spender looked down at his coffee mug and thinned his lips. He had paced the club room for hours, well not really hours. He had history to teach after all. The students, as far as he figured, knew nothing of the turmoil in his head, and not the usual turmoil involving two spirits trapped in headspace constantly trying to outwit the other.

He pushed at the coffee mug again. It was cleaned when he returned to the Teacher's Lounge after the walk around the school's halls. Mr. Garcia, according to Ms. Baxter as she was packing up her things, had left a few minutes prior to Mr. Spender's return. He needed to say something…  
The kids would be swinging by soon after the afternoon patrol he sent them on. To "show Max the ropes". Nothing too hostile had reared it's face yet. He kind of wished for it. Maybe helping his students pummel a chaotic spirit would ease his mind.

He pushed his sunglasses to his face. Until their return he was alone, left to his devices where he should be figuring out who he saw in the keyhole locket. He pulled open the desk drawer where he stashed the locket. Nothing had appeared since the sudden spirit he saw through the small portal earlier. Or he assumed so. He took a deep and exhaled. His nerves were fried and while he would love to dig deeper into the mysterious keyhole locket, he couldn't focus.

His fingers gripped the edge of the drawer. Why couldn't he think straight? It was just a slip of the tongue for both parties involved. Nothing more, nothing less. He felt the weight of his phone in his left pants pocket. Maybe…calling would settle the bubbling thoughts in his head. Tugging out the phone he stared at the black screen for a moment. Did he even have Garcia's number? He plugged in the password and pulled up his contacts. Yes he did. The number glared at him and would've blinded him too, but because (he's a nerd) of his sunglasses, he couldn't make the excuse.

His hand began to shake. Why was he getting himself worked up over this? It's just Garcia. He had to clear the weight of the words. They didn't mean anything. Garcia was half awake and grateful of the coffee. The words meant nothing.  
Spender swallowed and clicked his co-worker's name. The phone rang thrice before he could Garcia's tired voice muttered a, "Hello?"

Spender jumped, "SORRY WRONG NUMBER!" he shouted before chucking his phone to the couch in the middle of the room. He stared at his hand and back to the couch, mentally kicked himself that he could've broken his phone with that stunt, and jogged over to the couch, praying that his phone was all right. He had a teacher's salary after all. No way he could afford a new one.

Spender stared at his miraculously unbroken phone resting face up on the couch. The screen still shining at him. He gingerly picked up the phone and gave a false laugh, hoping to keep Garcia unaware of his nerves. "Sorry about that."

"Did you chuck your phone across the room again?" he asked, his tone suggesting he already knew the answer.

Spender tugged at his collar, "I-um," he coughed, "SO, how are you feeling today? You looked like you were gonna pass out earlier. Feeling better?"

Garcia hummed on the other end, "Ah, yeah thanks for the coffee. It helped."

"I-I'm glad it did," Spender chewed on the insides of his cheeks. He couldn't keep this up much longer. His nerves would fry, "So, um speaking about earlier. Do you remember what you said after I gave you the coffee?"

"Do you remember what you said after?" Spender's lips thinned as he held the phone in front of his face and allowed it to fall from his grip and land back on the couch. He could hear Garcia's muffled, "You dropped your phone again didn't you."

Spender clasped his hands together and held them against his lips. They really needed to drop the weight. Reluctantly, Spender picked up his phone again, "I may have."

"You really should stop doing that. Remember what happened with Ms. Baxter?"

Spender opened and closed his mouth. Oh he remembered. Garcia had slyly taken pictures of that incident. Spender was sure the science teacher still had them. "You and Starchman know I didn't mean to startle her."

"And what happens in the Teacher's Lounge stays in the Teacher's Lounge."

"So we good?"

Garcia grunted in reply.

Spender let out a sigh of relief, just as he heard loud footsteps out in the hall, "Sorry, Garcia, I've got to go, love you." He pushed end call before the words set in. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a low groan. Ed stood before him grinning, as he drew a heart in the air with his paintbrush tool. Spender frowned, "I didn't mean-"

The grin on Ed's face held as the other three Activity members walked in, "Don't worry Spender I won't say a word." He turned to Isabel, "HEY IZZY! I GOTS SOMETHING TO TELL YOU!"


	3. Prétentieux d'Amour

Spender knew it was going to be a long day as soon as he entered the Teacher's Lounge that morning. To begin with, Starchman seemed to be doing some interpretive dance right when he walked in. Then again, that wasn't too out of the ordinary. Ms. Baxter was at the coffee pot, unloading her bag onto the counter looking for something. Probably her special tea. No one but her was allowed to touch her brew once made. She needed her tea as much as the others needed their morning coffee.

Spender glanced around the Teacher's Lounge. Garcia was no where to be seen. Spender let out an audible sigh of relief before quickly making his way over to the fridge. Maybe he could get in and out without seeing the science teacher. Avoiding was not the best of plans, but after the last phone call... avoiding was the best plan.

He shoved his lunch into the fridge next to the Chinese Take-out and clear container labeled "FOOD" with stars drawn in a black sharpie all over the red lid. The plastic sour cream container still shoved in the back made him swallow the bile building in the back of his throat. Why anyone hadn't pitched that thing was beyond him.

He closed the fridge door and nearly jumped out of his sunglasses. Starchman had long since stopped dancing and was holding up a movie ticket. Spender looked down at the ticket then back at the reflective glasses on Starchman's face. He cleared his throat, adjusted his sunglasses and tie, "Mr. Starchman," Spender said, attempting to calm his nerves, "you startled me."

Starman flashed the ticket again, "I'm sorry to bother you Rick, but it seems like I cannot attend this film tonight. I was hoping you would be able take my place instead."

Spender's lips thinned as Starchman gently placed the ticket into his hands. _Prétentieux d'Amour_ was written in a fancy form of cursive on the laminated paper. "Um sure can do?" Spender tried to look into the English teacher's eyes, but the overhead lighting flickered off for the fourth time that week. It was only Tuesday.

Starchman grinned and patted Spender's back, "I hope you have fun."

Spender smiled nervously, "Haha yeah," he slid past Starchman and was almost out the door when he almost ran into Garcia.

The two stared at each other for a moment. Before Garcia could utter a "Good Morning." Spender was out the door and on his way to his office.

* * *

Spender glanced at his ticket again for the millionth time that day. Why Starchman gave him a movie ticket with bonus dinner attached puzzled him. He had only briefly read about this event in the paper a couple weeks ago. He thought about purchasing a ticket until he realized: he had no one to go with, prices for tickets were too high for his liking, and the movie sounded too cheesy for his tastes.

He sat in the parking lot mulling over going through with Starchman's request. His fingers tapped the steering wheel. He hoped this wasn't another ploy to get him out more. Spectral activity took up most, if not all, of his free time outside of work and grading papers. It wasn't his fault everyone assumed he was cooped up at home, right?

After psyching himself up and putting away his driving gloves, Spender walked to the theater. _It's just a movie. Nothing bad will happen._ He reminded himself as he gave the attendant his ticket. "Section B, row 3, seat 12." He gave a smile and a nod before walking in to the seating area. Various spirits chattered amongst themselves before floating to the ceiling to find their own spot. _Nothing bad will happen. Just enjoy the movie and eat dinner. You need a break._

Just as Spender was mentally checking through to make sure none of the spirits in the area were hostile, he accidentally bumped into a person waiting in the aisle for their row to allow them through. "Oh I'm sorry-"

Garcia raised an eyebrow, "You really need to stop being such a klutz. How do you even see with your sunglasses on."

"I-Garcia what are y-" The lights dimmed and before Spender knew it, Garcia was dragging him down the aisle to their seats.

"You're going to make us late and not even fashionably," Garcia whispered as they stood in front of their seats.

"Did Starchman give you a ticket too? Why did he have two-"

Garcia hit the arm rest next to him, "Sit down before you start a scene."

Spender plopped down in his seat and folded his hands in his lap. His lips thinned as he began processing the tickets again as the movie began. The light seemed to shake as the title of the film _Prétentieux d'Amour_ floated on to the screen. He frowned as the words were rippled away as a sugar cube dropped on them and a spoon stirred the brown liquid.

Spender took quiet shallow breaths. _This is fine. Everything is fine._ As the movie wore on he calmed down a little. The movie of course was not something he'd pick out to watch by himself or in a public area. It was awful. For starters, they were switching languages mid-sentence.

 _"You are my pomme de terre," the voice said over the phone.  
The woman, Alice, dabbed her tears with her handkerchief, "Tu es mon ravon sunshine."_

Spender leaned over to Garcia, "Did he just call her a potato?"

Garcia grinned, "Would you prefer pomme d'oeil?"

Spender centered himself in his seat and decided to focus on the subtitles. Half the time it was hard to tell they were there thanks to the lighting and whomever decided Latin would be a great choice as the language used for said subtitles seemed to have tried too hard. He wanted to say something. He needed to say something. Spender licked his lips. He was also getting hungry and the food in the movie didn't help either, despite most of the food was totally fake.

 _"So how are you feeling? Bon Jovi? Mauvais jovi? C'est un mystère. We need to communicate." Brad asked leaning against the wall._ _"I'm fine. Comme ci comme ca. Geez Brad, just go to the car we'll parlez un momento s'il vous please." Alice held up her index finger and moved behind the diner counter. She spoke rapidly to the man wearing a cowboy hat in Spanish._

Spender pinched the bridge of his nose. Spender wondered quietly to himself: did I kick a puppy in a previous life? Is this karma? What did he do to deserve this butchered language nightmare?

Garcia leaned over as the movie seemed to have taken on a new Spanish turn no one in the theatre saw coming. There wasn't a plot twist, it was a language twist! "Apunde te vel me?" He whispered near Spender's ear.

Spender chewed the inside of his cheeks, "Sì?"

Garcia leaned back in his seat as the movie appeared to be at its end. The scene turned to glaringly fake blood as Alice held Brad's body in her arms. Spender gripped his arm rest. What happened? He only stopped paying attention for like two seconds.

 _"Brad," Alice sobbed, "You are mon rayon de soleil, mon seul rayon de soleil  
Tu me rends heureux quand les cieux sont gris." She sang as tears rolled down her face._

The couple behind them started chanting under their breath, "Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss."

 _"S'il vous plaît ne me sunshine away." Alice kissed Brad's forehead and he coughed back to life._ _"Alice?" He whispered, raising his hand to wipe away her tears, "D'amour, the merrier."_

Black letters appeared on the screen, "Le end." The lights came back to life and everyone in the theatre cheered, saved for Garcia and a confused Spender. People began filing out of the theatre to recon with their cars and head home. However, there were some with special tickets. First they were movie tickets, and now they were meal tickets. Spender's stomach rumbled, sending his already war zone of a mind into a tizzy as he tried to keep his face in poker face mode.

He didn't win many poker games.

Once the crowd died down, the duo walked together to the restaurant a couple buildings down. The neon lights for Formaggio Del Mio Cuore, the fondue restaurant mentioned on the ticket, flashed it's yellow light. The sign imitated a pot of fondue boiling. Spender didn't think the night could get any cheesier. He was wrong.

"Ever been here before?" Garcia asked, as he held the door open.

"No," Spender pushed his sunglasses closer to his face, "I haven't been out much," he admitted.

"Seems like Starchman was right," Garcia murmured after Spender walked inside.

They waited behind the mixture of, who they assumed, were movie goers and regulars. The group in front of them chattered about the breakfast scene and something about the French being hardcore for eating bread. Spender inhaled. _It's just dinner with a co-worker. You're not eating alone again tonight. It's all fiiiiine_. He exhaled and Garcia showed the waiter their tickets. Spender stared at his hand puzzled. When did Garcia grab his ticket?

Garcia ordered for them after explaining to Spender that fondue was meant for more than one person. He felt a little better, but how was this going to play out?


End file.
